


Out of the Frying Pan, into the Fire

by TheUniverseIsRarelySoLazy



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Chance Meetings, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-14
Updated: 2015-07-14
Packaged: 2018-04-09 09:40:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4343576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheUniverseIsRarelySoLazy/pseuds/TheUniverseIsRarelySoLazy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A chance encounter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Out of the Frying Pan, into the Fire

"Keep your excuses to yourself!"

"But let me explain..."

"No, I'm done. Get away from me!"

You shout at the young man following you, while you storm out of the cafe. You don't care if you're very obviously making a big scene out of this. Almost like in a bad romance movie, your brain suggests. The man runs after you and tries to grab your hand, but you are faster and slam the door of the cafe in his face, so he can't follow you.

"Never speak to me again!" you shout again, while your follower stays inside the building.

With tears in your eyes you stumble down the steps and out into the street. In a moment of weakness, you turn back, but don't stop walking. You quickly realise that this was a mistake, as you get knocked off your feet. In a tumble you fall to the floor next to another person, who was apparently just walking down the street as you exited the building.

Before you can even make out who you ran into, you feel a sudden pressure on your upper body, forcing you to the ground. An arm is pressed across your shoulders and neck, effectively pinning you to the sidewalk. You look up and find the eyes of a woman, staring you down. For a few seconds, nothing happens, then you see the woman frown. Dark brown hair surrounds her face, so long that it falls almost to the floor beside your head. She blinks a few times.

"It's alright, Anthea. This seems to be an accident."

"Yes, sir."

At the sound of a man's voice, the woman releases her hold on you and raises to her feet. You rub the place where she was pressed against you, but are unable to do anything else, as you still haven't quite caught up to what is happening around you.

"I'm sorry," the woman says and holds out her hand.

Wait, did she call someone sir just now? And you ran into that man? Holy shit, she must be a bodyguard, the way she immediately tried to pin you down to protect the man. Ugh, just your rotten luck.

You shake your head at the hand and sit up yourself. The woman shrugs and turns around to the other person on the sidewalk. You look up to see a tall, lean man in a bespoke suit eyeing you while he smoothes down his jacket. As your eyes meet you feel both uncomfortable and incredibly curious at the same time. You can almost see him thinking as his gaze darts over every detail of your body, clothes and the small bag, which you carry. You are not sure if you feel okay with being scrutinized like that, but there is something intriguing about the man that makes the part of your brain, which is complaining, shut up.

"I am so sorry," you manage to stutter after some of your thoughts align again. "Please don't... uhm... arrest me?"

The man blinks. Then he laughs - apparently much to the confusion of his... bodyguard (?), who raises an eyebrow and frowns disbelieving.

"I am quite alright, believe me," the man answers. "I don't think I could arrest you just because you ran into me. Well, actually I could.... Don't look that shocked."

"... sorry."

You try to stand up, but then realise for the first time that your knee hurts quite badly. Looking down, you see a trickle of blood running down your leg, staining some of your summer dress in the process. You sigh heavily. Can this get any worse?

"Here, let me help."

The man steps over to you and bows down to help you up. You gratefully grab onto his hands and steady yourself this way to get up without putting any pressure on your injured leg.

"I really am sorry," you mutter again. "I..."

"Take your hands off her!"

Both you and the tall man turn around to find your now ex-boyfriend standing in the door of the cafe. Oh great, perfect, you think. This is exactly what I needed right now.

"It's all fine," you say calmly, but with emphasis. "I don't believe I asked for your help. In fact you can fuck off right now."

In the corner of your eye, you can see the man in the suit raise his eyebrows at your words, but he neither gives a comment, or retrieves his hands, which you still hold onto for balance.

"Fuck off? In case you forgot, I'm your fiancé!"

"You gave up on that status the moment you got involved with that woman," you pull your engagement ring from your finger and throw it at him in a very dramatic fashion. "Here, take it back. I'm guessing you'll need it again soon."

"But she's not..."

"Stop," you shout, and with that the tears start streaming back down your face. "Just stop. Leave. Never talk to me again!"

"But..."

"I believe the Lady asked you to leave," you hear a low voice saying next to you. "If I were you, I'd choose to do so."

"Yeah? What's it to you?"

"To me? Nothing, really. But I will not stand by and watch this abominable behaviour and ill treatment of a Lady continue."

Well, this turned interesting fast. You are not sure how, but you seemed to have found yourself a knight just when you needed one. Your body leans a bit closer and you squeeze the hands of your saviour once to assure you that he's really there.

"I could be wrong, but this whole thing is really none of your business. This is between her and me," the younger man says. "So be nice and leave me with my girlfriend, so we can discuss this."

"Do you want to discuss anything?" the man at your side asks calmly.

"There is nothing to talk about," you answer.

"You heard the Lady. Now leave."

"I will not..."

"Anthea?"

"Yes, sir."

Everything happens rather quickly. The bodyguard woman steps over in the blink of an eye and grabs both arms of your ex-boyfriend with seemingly no effort at all. Before he can react, they are twisted behind his back and he groans with displeasure.

"We are gathering a crowd," the woman called Anthea informs her captive. "If you don't want to attract more attention - and avoid a broken arm - I'd advise you to leave now."

You can see your ex-boyfriend nod very quickly and run back into the building as soon as Anthea lets go of his arms. She claps her hands together as if to remove dust from them and shrugs at you. You nod your thanks, on which she smiles briefly in return.

"Is your leg alright?" the man next to you asks, and you suddenly realise that you are still closely holding onto his arm. You blush and let go - not entirely without regret.

"I guess," you cautiously bend your knee. It hurts quite a bit, but you can handle it for the way home. "It's not that bad."

"Please, allow me to bandage it, at least," the man says and points to a big, black car, which seemed to have appeared on the street out of nowhere. "Anthea, please."

The woman disappears into the car. You receive an unmistakable gesture to follow her. Okay, letting someone strange help you out in the open was one thing. But what was that thing about strangers and cars again? You hesitate, which apparently doesn't go unnoticed.

"Mycroft Holmes," the man says and smiles at you. "I occupy a minor position in the British government... Not a stranger anymore now."

"How did you...?"

You only receive a smirk as reply. "Please, allow me."

"You really don't have to, as I am entirely at fault here..."

"It doesn't matter. I will not let you stumble home like this." A statement, not a request.

You sigh. How did you get into that situation again? One minute you were finding your fiancé in a cafe, snogging the living daylights out of some unknown woman, the next you are being asked into the car of a strange gentleman. You eye him again. He keeps himself perfectly upright, umbrella hanging from his right arm. The dark grey suit clings to his figure and makes him quite attractive this way. Attentive, stormy blue eyes don't leave you, clearly seeing your appraisal, but he makes no comment. Some seconds pass, but somewhere in the back of your mind, you had made your decision long ago.

"Thank you, Mr. Holmes," you say and let yourself be lead into the car.

**Author's Note:**

> This was rather short, but the idea came to me suddenly and I am glad I wrote it down.


End file.
